Trust
It’s World Poetry day so it seems appropriate to share a poem. I wrote this one a week ago, disturbed by the news from Ukraine and by our own inept and unreliable government. This was of course before the latest crass comparisons between Brexit and the Russian invasion. The conclusion in the last line becomes ever more difficult to sustain. Must we trust?
Sunday morning
It’s 10 o’clock, a Sunday morning
The background noise a symphony
It’s 10 o’clock, a Sunday morning
I sit and read as people flee
The world outside is full of pain
The news is full of war again
It’s 10 o’clock, a Sunday morning
I sit and try to think things through
It’s 10 o’clock, a Sunday morning
It’s hard to know what I can do
The existential threat draws near
And all of life is tinged with fear.
Our leaders I find hard to trust
But lacking choice it seems I must
©C A Earnshaw 13/3/22
